


Neapolitan

by kawaiite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Violence, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawaiite/pseuds/kawaiite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange man by the name of 'Mister' adopts a young child named Eren Jaeger into his life. An unexpected turn of events leaves Eren curious and flustered while the Mister remains the opposite of the child. A scratch of the back from one to another is polite to return, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neapolitan

Chapter One

In the midst of such nights like those, I had trouble sleeping. I felt myself absently tossing and turning in a mess of my white sheets. It was cold. I felt, as I breathed out, my warm breath morph magically into smoke. I opened my dry eyes and watched it happen and it fascinated me so that I stayed awake longer, trying to figure out how it did that. The odd feeling of 'how could that happen?' remained by my side every time I exhaled. It bothered me for a spit-second, then I got frustrated. I blinked tiredly and turned numbly onto my back. My tongue clicked in annoyance against the roof of my mouth and I sat up only to have had my sheet cascade off my body and lay in a lump on my lap. For the first time that night, I discerned the bothersome feeling of numb toes. My body moved as if I was not controlling it consciously and I got out of bed. The initial feeling of below freezing concrete beneath my already frozen feet shocked me, but nothing could be lost from it, nor anything be gained.

Mister told me that whenever I "felt forlorn, desolate, alone" that I could knock on my door and he'd come. I didn't know the meaning of forlorn or desolate, but I remembered the word alone, the word that he had explained to me first. I presumed that they all had the same sense. I padded numbly across the chilling floor, the light echo of my feet slapping against the concrete seemed to not bother me as much as the constant smoke flowing out of my mouth. It took effort to form my hand into a fist as I reached the big metal door with big bolts on the very left side of it; I knocked three times exactly, feeling myself weak after. It took effort to work against the terrifying mechanism of gravity. I stumbled in place as I waited and supported my fragile, cool body against the nearby wall. My eyes closed in exhaustion as I anticipated the arrival of the Mister, and I couldn't hold back the desperate need to cry.

The big metal door, little by little, went ajar and there in a dark housecoat was the Mister.

"How are you feeling, Eren?" He said in a chilly voice that seemed to lower the temperature even more. I felt my tears already begin drying on my pale cheeks (I was convinced it was from the low temperature in the room) and my breathing became shallow and forced. My eyes cracked open and I clutched the wall desperately as if it was my saviour, as if it would be the one to make warmness come back, to make my empty stomach full, to make my tears be no more. Mister reminded me sternly on a lot of different occasions that when he asked me a question like that, I had to reply with one of the three words he'd told me when we'd first met.

I managed to croak, "alone" and saw no emotion come to Mister's face. He stepped into the icy room and shut the big door behind him with the big bolts on the left side.

"Come," he beckoned. I managed to suppress the feeling of dizziness and nausea for then, and endured the long trip back to my cot. Mister told me to sit and I complied without making any commotion, feeling desperately weak. I sat on the edge of the foot of the bed and supported myself with both of my hands pushing into the pathetic fibres of the mattress; through a dazed look, I watched in half-interest as Mister removed his housecoat in front of me. His eyes locked on mine, but I had no wish to applaud his efforts. Lay down and roll over, I was told, or else I would suffer in the cold only longer. Gradually, I obeyed the Mister's orders and lied there, breathing warm smoke into the thin sheet under me. Mister did this when I became alone, and said if I refused his advances I would receive repercussions. Frankly, it was beyond me where Mister got this strange idea to make my loneliness go away. It saddened me that it hurt so badly, but the sadness usually subsided when Mister would kiss my forehead after he was done with me.

My feelings for the Mister were inexplicably neapolitan. One instance I would feel hatred towards the man; I would despise every square inch of the being and trace over every feature of his in my mind that I wouldn't be afraid to deform with a blunt object. On different occasions, my bubbling feelings of undisputed fondness would boil over the point of no return and my mind would race over every single adoring attribute of his: that completely relaxed attitude, his cold eyes, the way he walked, the way he spoke to me. I would repeat over and over to myself that I loved the Mister, but I did not know the meaning of love. The last of the cases would be overflowing depression. Why, in all of the world, did the Mister have to choose me to be held as his precious captive? Questions lead to more questions unaccompanied by answers, and I started to feel confused and upset to why this had to happen to me, of all people. I had practically no memory of anything or anyone before my time with the Mister. As far as I knew I could have been with him since I was five years old, and that span of of ten years must have been hell for me if I wasn't able to remember much.

The only real memory I've kept dear to me from the past was the tampered image of a blond child. I couldn't make out if it was a young boy or girl from the vague image, but I could easily tell they were overjoyed to have me in their presence. Through the obscureness I could see a big, clearly delighted, grin on their face and the seemed to be laughing. How I wanted to be with them dearly.

"Mister. . ." I panted, conscious of a dull ache beginning to rise to my lower back.

"Yes?" He answered nonchalantly. In the haze of chilliness in the room and numb soreness working its way throughout my legs and back, I could feel a shift of weight on my mattress and the shuffling of fabric, so the Mister must've been re-clothing himself in his housecoat. I turned my head feebly to the side so my cheek was pressed against the cot and I could speak more easily.

"What is the meaning of forlorn?" I heard the Mister laugh in a way that sounded like a scoff when I'd asked.

"You will find out soon enough, Eren. Don't think about it too much or you're going to overwhelm yourself with such questions and you'll paralyse yourself and become a vegetable. You wouldn't want that now, would you?" He answered, seemingly without a second thought and I heard him begin to leave me in the chilly dark. "Goodnight, Eren. I will see you in the morning."

The whole night, I was trying to figure out what the Mister had meant by that I'd "become a vegetable" if I thought about the meaning of a word too hard. I couldn't paralyse myself and turn into a carrot overnight just because of that, could I? He typically confused me by what he's said to me on multiple different occasions, but I supposed that was just a section of the neapolitan that I liked about him.  
In the morning, I woke up in a bed unknown to me. The mattress beneath me was soft and cushion-y unlike my own, which was cold and springy; the sheet which surrounded my body in a warm, comfortable hold was one of the most cozy things I'd ever felt. Confusion quickly filled my body to the brim as I sat up and gazed around the surrounding area in a tired daze. Three separate white, luscious curtains cascaded down three separate windows which invited in a bright light tantalizingly. A big dresser and a big closet that had the same matching dark shade of maroon on the opposite side of the room occupied the space, as well as two doors. One door was smaller than the other and matched the colour of the wall: a creamy white. The other door was much bigger and took up a bunch of wall space; it had dark wood as the frame and a marble-like face. It fascinated me how something could be so professionally built like that.

Had I been traded off to another person? Jesus, I hoped that that wasn't the case. Becoming instantaneously curious to what lied beyond that alluring door, I reluctantly discarded the blanket and set my feet on the. . . carpet? There was a carpet in this room, as well? My feet were beyond used to feeling a below freezing concrete floor beneath them, but this was a lovely little treat for my no longer frozen toes. Before actually standing, I relished in the fuzzy material the protruded from the ground and squirmed my toes in the fabric, feeling a smile rise to my lips in amusement. My, I noticed, when was the last time I'd smiled? I must have lost track of the time that'd passed since I last was truly happy and at peace. I transferred my weight from the bed to my legs and stood, but not for long. A piercing ache throughout my legs and back rendered me unable to stand; I had forgot that the Mister comforted me the night before. I landed on my stomach ungracefully with a grunt that was a mix of surprise and pain. I remained on the floor a while longer, moaning and groaning in intolerable pain until I heard a gentle creak that sounded similar to a door opening. My gaze lifted and there standing in the doorway was the Mister. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, and when I tried to maneuver myself back onto my feet, that same pain just shot right back into my legs, keeping me glued to the floor.

"I'm sorry for being impolite, Mister, but. . . I can't stand." I admitted, trying to get up once more and having it proved useless just to really show him that I was telling the truth. At first, I couldn't help the feeling that he would yell at me and order to me to my feet or be sent back to my room. Please no, I don't want to go back there, Mister! Please, let me be in your company for a while longer, I inwardly pleaded to the man taking in the sight before him with, what looked like, silent pity. A weak smirk rose to his lips, I saw, and he sighed before he moved towards me. Pathetically, I had to rely on the Mister's strength to stand (in which he was surprisingly very strong for a man his size; the Mister looked like he could have been five foot, two inches!). He lead me back to the bed which was only a few steps away and told me to lay back in bed, for breakfast would be coming momentarily. I did as he told me, excited for what kind of luscious meal was ahead of me, and tucked myself carefully back under the covers.

As the Mister was about to take his leave, I called out to him. "Ahm, Mister?" I watched him pause in the doorway and reply without looking back.

"What?"

"Is. . . Is this your room? It's very nice and big!" I complimented the area in a most honest awe; really, this room was practically Heaven! The soft cushions supporting my back, the creamy walls, the lovely window shades, the carpet even! It was all too heavenly. He replied simply not with words but a simple action: a nod of the head. And with that, he exited the room and clicked the door shut behind him.

While waiting for someone to return to me, I took the time to absorb even more of my surroundings. When I attempted to stand, I'd noticed then that my clothes were not the grubby pieces of cloth I typically wore. I wore what looked like a satin black nightshirt and matching satin pants. They fit a little tight, but I certainly wasn't going to begin complaining about it!

If I was to describe my feelings right that minute in the form of a colour, I was positive to say that it would be a yellow. Yellow, a colour usually told to symbolize happiness and prosperity. I wouldn't have said that I was necessarily happy or lived in prosper by any means, but I was pleased with what my surroundings were and that now I was laying the Mister's own bed with his own permission. The cosmopolitan colour today sure was an appreciative one.

Time passed and just as I was about to start thinking that no one was going to come to me, the big wooden door swung open and a big cart was wheeled in by a petite blond woman with a cute bob cut wearing a white apron with little food splatters scattered on it here and there. On the cart held two big silver domed-lidded platters and a big glass of an orange liquid. The woman rolled the cart over to the side of the bed, and lifted the lids to reveal such delicious smelling food. I saw two big cooked eggs, two lightly burned pieces of bread and a big bowl of fruit. She bowed to leave me to my meal, but spared a longing glance back at me before exiting the room rather quickly. I thought it odd for a lingering moment, thinking that she somehow looked familiar to me, but brushed it off, thinking nothing of it. I delightfully dug into my meal, sparing hardly a second doing anything other.

Just as I had finished the big glass of orange liquid (which was good, but not something I would want on a daily basis), the Mister was the one to open the wooden door this time. I set down the empty cup and smiled pleasantly at him in greeting, adding a joyed hello along with it. He hummed nothing other than 'mhm' towards me, and looked as if he was going to make his way to the other cream coloured door but glanced over at me momentarily and I supposed I caught his attention. The Mister sighed a sigh of pretend hopelessness and walked to my side of the bed. I followed his movements, watching him pick up a white cloth off of the cart, which in truth, I hadn't noticed was there, and he carelessly tossed it on my lap.

"Clean yourself up." He advised me, in which I nodded in surprise eagerness to please him. The Mister went back to the cream coloured door and opened it. As I dabbed the cloth around my lips, I peered over to take a little better look into the mysterious room. The angle I was sitting at permitted me from seeing what was so sacred inside, but I came into quick realization that it was only a wash room. The sound of running water sounded throughout the rooms and asked myself, was the Mister going to take a bath in my presence?

The soothing lullaby of running water came to an abrupt halt only minutes after the same song had started. The Mister stepped out of the room again and when he came to my side once more, he ordered me to remove the blanket from my lap. I was startled only a little, but did as he told me. He assisted me in the process of getting out of bed and guided me to the wash room where I saw an almost-filled-to-the-brim gorgeous white bathtub, and the rest of the wash room necessities.

"Take off your clothes and get in the tub." The Mister directed me without hesitation. I turned my head to him in slight surprise that he had been so casual to say so.

"But, Mister. . ." I hesitated, hoping that the warm colour that was gathering in my cheeks would disappear soon and fast. He merely rolled his eyes and explained that Eren, I've seen you naked before. It's not like it'll be the first time. Now hurry your ass up before I get impatient and send you back.

Realizing what he had meant by 'send you back', I obliged without saying another word. I slipped into the tranquillizing pool of hot water made specifically for me, breathing out a soft sigh of final relaxation into the air. Submerged in water almost completely, my fingers and toes wiggled in unison, happy that they were finally able to feel hot, soothing liquids again. The hardness of the bottom of the tub put somewhat of a light pressure on my lower back, but it wasn't one to bother me much; besides, what was I supposed to expect, a cashmere floor of a damn bathtub? I had been enjoying my sweet time in the bathtub that I hadn't realized that the Mister was beginning to unbutton his shirt. I glanced upwards first only for a split-second, but my gaze lingered on his chest the second look.

The Mister had light red scars scattered all over his chest and arms, which upset me in a way that I couldn't quite put my finger on. What could those scars be from, I asked myself, but decided not to dwell on the subject too much for the Mister was folding his shirt now and placing it to the side; I was sure that he must have caught my gaze one way or another! For now I could simply use the hot water as an excuse for my red cheeks.

He instructed me to reach over and grab the big bottle of 'shampoo', to pour some into my hand and rub it into my hair (the word shampoo seemed faintly familiar to me, but I supposed I always referred to it as hair wash). I obeyed his command and dunked my sudsy head under the water once I was finished. The Mister also told me to do the same thing with another bottle of 'conditioner'; I asked what conditioner was for, in which he told me it was to make my hair healthy. A generous amount of conditioner landed in my palm, was scrubbed into the depths of my brown hair and was soon swept away by the hot water surrounding me.

Expecting my bathing to be finished, I placed both of my hands on either side of the tub and attempted to push myself up, but I was halted by the Mister saying I wasn't done quite yet. I sunk back into the water, not refusing his order whatsoever- that water was unbelievably calming. I watched with a longing gaze as the Mister got up from his previously crouched position and went to go fetch something for me. He came back moments later and tossed a cloth into the water in front of me. For a moment, a blinked down at it then blinked over at him.

"Use that bottle of body wash and use that cloth to wash yourself." The Mister told me as if it was one of the most obvious knowledges in the world. It was no surprise that my actions were only what the Mister told me. I began to scrub at my skin with the bubbly piece of wet cloth, lifting my arm from the water to cleanse it properly and so that none of the suds would be whisked away. I protruded one leg at a time from the water, lifting them so they were stretched out in front of me and scrubbed away at them, feeling a warm smile caress my lips. From the side, I could feel the stare I was receiving from the Mister. He was watching me closely, watching my every little move which silently pleased and amused me. To peak his interest just a little more, I continued washing my legs, but I ran the cloth slowly under the water each time the length of my leg was soapy to wash my thighs. To top it off, each time I did that, I purposely made a soft, teasing noise in the back of my throat.

It must have been an hour that I was in the bath until finally the Mister informed me quickly that it was time to get out or I'd shrivel up like a damn prune. I got out per his request and he handed me a fluffy white towel with such swiftness that I thought he was going to punch me in the chest with it. I dried myself off and the Mister gave me my privacy for a minute. I was in such a great mood that I'd almost completely forgot that only hours ago, I was held a dirty captive in a disgustingly freezing room, being fed only a meal a day. I knew from the bottom of my heart that I'd become such a miserable lonely mess when I returned there. I shivered heavily at the thought.

"Clothes're by the door." The Mister called through the door, catching my attention. Quickly, I messily folded the towel and placed it beside the tub. I'd opened the wash room door just as the Mister exited the bedroom and closed the door behind. A pang of loneliness struck me, feeling useless without my Mister in the room with me – I caught myself; my Mister? Had I finally gone cooky? The Mister would never be mine, and that was a solid fact that I had to face with an emotionless façade. At times when I was captive in the dungeon (I wasn't sure if it was a dungeon, but hell did it ever feel like it!) I would fantasize about cradling the Mister in my arms as we spooned in a big king-sized bed; about him gently kissing my forehead and telling me that it would all be okay, that we would never part; about us taking a walk in public, not ashamed an inch to hold each other's hand tightly within our own. The Mister, despite my sometimes harsh feelings towards him, was the one in this world whom I truly adored. Never was he cruel to me, except on some days when I would knock at the big metal door with the big metal bolts on the left side and he was quick to become impatient with me; whether I didn't remove my pants quick enough or wouldn't turn over quick enough, he would handle me roughly and force his way on my body without one twinge of remorse.

I clad myself in more clothes that I'd never seen before (this time it was a nice, white long-sleeved shirt; some cool black pants to go with the shirt and some black socks) and took a waiting seat on the edge of the bed. While waiting for the Mister to return, I took that time alone to notice that the cart that was wheeled in by the blonde girl earlier was no longer in the room and that my waist no longer ached as much as it did an hour ago. He must have known that he harmed me the night before and wanted to make up for it. I smiled, feeling my emotions for the the Mister only grow.

The Mister returned to me, stood in the doorway and stared at me plainly. I couldn't help but stare back in minor curiousness; I watched his gaze go from my damp hair to the buttoned shirt I was given and finally to my fancy black pants. With such silence used to driving me up the wall, I wanted to let him know that I was thankful -very thankful- for what he was doing for me and along side that, I offered a kind, faintly nervous smile for his humane efforts as of late. His eyes drove back to mine and he nodded, speaking a 'you're welcome' in an aloof tone.

"We're going out, Eren. Follow behind me closely and don't get lost." He said, turning on his heel after raising his eyebrows at me in confirmation that I understood what he said. Obediently, I followed him out and closed the door behind me. The hallway, I immediately noticed was long and it had nice tile-y flooring which wasn't anything like the ground in the dungeon. The walls were a simple shade of light grey and the floor resembled a checker board- black and white. There were big windows on the left side of the walls and as I looked out, I saw that we were so high up; I wanted to ask the Mister how we possibly could have gotten so high from the ground outside, but I decided it was best to be silent for now. Taking the time to keep my eyes on the outside, the weather, I saw, was grey. I saw big clouds gathering in the air, saw green grass down below us and all around the area outside. There was also a long black car sitting outside the building, parked on a bunch of millions of tiny little rocks.

I followed the Mister the rest of the way with my eyes on the back of his body. I lagged back a bit since my waist still hurt a little (and it looked like the Mister'd taken that into thought consideration), but I wasn't that far behind. We must've took hundreds of steps until we reached a big, big staircase. My initial instinct was to clutch to the silver railing and I stuck with that until we finally reached downstairs.

The Mister motioned downwards to a pair of fancy black shoes that shone dully in the light and told me to put them on, which I did as he told me. He swung open one of the two gigantic doors in front of our view and kept it open until I exited alongside him. We entered the black car I'd seen from the window above, he in the front seat so he could drive and me in the seat beside him. What an honour it was to me to sit in such a close proximity to the Mister! The car made a loud rumbling sound which initially startled me and caused me to stare over at him in terror. He merely smirked and told me to grab the 'seatbelt' by my head and click it into a little pocket on the opposite side of me. Inwardly questioning the Mister's intentions, I grabbed the neck of the seatbelt and yanked it across my body and plugged the metal piece into the small pocket.

"Where are you taking me, Mister?" I inquired in a soft, barely trembling tone. My nerves were beginning to fray; I wasn't used to this weird vehicle or whatever the hell a seatbelt was and now all of the sudden, the Mister was treating me in such a way that was suspicious, and now he was driving us somewhere! I had the inward need to lean over and clutch to his arm, but suspected that that probably wouldn't be such a smart move on my behalf. He grunted, focused on backing up the car and once he backed up enough to see that there was nothing but clear road in front of him, he starting going forward.

"Somewhere that doesn't concern you, Eren." He answered simply, relaxing back in his chair and grabbing on to the wheel in front of him with one hand and begun reaching for something in his coat pocket with the other hand. I squeezed my hands tightly together in my lap, nervously glancing over at him every few seconds to make sure that he didn't lose control of the wheel. Seconds later, I watched him pull a cigar out of his pocket. He held it out sideways to me without sparing a glance my way, and I guessed that it was him telling me to hold it. I held it between my two fingers in place cautiously as he began searching for another item. The Mister had pulled out a lighter and took multiple glances over at his cigar whilst he lighted it. A smoke rose from the end and he'd been satisfied enough with that to stuff the lighter back in his pocket and take back the cigar from my hand.

The car was easily filled with scented smoke within slow seconds. It was an odd scent, but it somehow must have gotten to my head; I felt the need to take a puff of the stick and see for myself what it tasted like. My gaze wavered from my lap to the Mister to the cigar in his hand. He took multiple puffs of the cigar, holding the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds then blew it into the air, sometimes making tricks with the smoke like shaping it into circles. The Mister took a look over at me, and it had to be the moment I'd had my eyes on the cigar- not my lap nor him himself. He chuckled quietly without opening his mouth and wordlessly offered the cigar over to me. I blinked at it a few seconds until I took it into my fingers and thanked him.

I hacked up a storm when I took my first inhale. I'd accidentally swallowed the smoke, which I didn't think I was supposed to do. The Mister had a laugh at my mishap and I offered the stick back to him.

"Not the thing for ya, huh?" A smirk trailed across his pale lips, teasing me.

"I. . . I'd never smoked before, Mister. So I wasn't sure what to do with it," I confessed to the man beside me, who nodded slightly after taking one last inhale before tossing it out the window. No more conversation was made beyond that point, which disappointed me. I wanted to talk more with the Mister, I took a liking to talking with him. I realized that I developed an addiction within the past few hours of spent time with the Mister; his voice. Such subtle coolness was hard to ignore, plus his neat and composed attitude intrigued me only more.

We pulled in to a lot that contained a huge, huge house and four different coloured cars parked all in a row. The Mister stopped the car behind the last one in line and told me to get out. At first, it sounded like he was telling me to get out so he could just leave me there for good, but a wave of relief flooded my body after I'd shut my door and heard his shut too. He lead me to the front door of the foreign house and raised his hand in a fist and rapped loudly four times. A man (well, I wouldn't exactly say a man) answered the door within seconds and was clad in a fancy suit shaded in black and white.

"Greetings, Sir. The Master is in his quarters." The man in the suit said once he looked like he'd realized who was at the door.

"Thank you Jean. Come along, Eren, don't lag behind or I'll leave you there." The Mister informed me in a sudden cold tone. In seconds, I felt my attitude go from such a high place to just below average. I was inexplicably sceptical and frightened to enter someone's house other than the Misters. Reluctantly I followed behind him, catching a swift glance at the doorman before continuing on. "Jean" had a very slim face and was just a little paler than I. His haircut was one I could label as odd; the sides of his hair were shaved and looked like they were dyed dark brown while the top of his head was a dirty golden colour. Leaving behind the doorman, I sauntered after the Mister and caught up with him a few steps later. We strolled in silence other than the clacking of our shoes against the tile, similar to the type in the Mister's house. The pair of us reached a closed door at the end of a hallway, in which we had to take two lefts and right to reach, and the Mister knocked twice.

A deep voice answered from the other side of the door. "Yes?"

"It's me." The Mister answered, rolling his eyes as he spoke. It seemed, already from such little dialogue, that the Mister and the mysterious man knew each other well. This concerned me. What was really happening here?

"Ah, of course. Come in." The Mister opened up the door and I was the one to close it behind us. The man who's house we were at stood from his chair and walked towards us to greet us. He bore a polite smile but already I did not like him. "Long time no see, 'sir'." He chuckled as he joked at the Mister. I narrowed my eyes slightly at him, thinking how dare he crack a joke at the Mister; he would surely be upset with the rude, tall, blonde man. "And this is Eren," he paused, taking a moment to look me up and down. I felt violated already and inwardly hoped that the Mister would pull me away from him. "my, how you've grown since I last saw you."

Since he last saw me? What kind of bullshit was this man spewing? I'd never seen him in all my life and was offended that he would speak to me so casually. For the sole purpose of not upsetting or embarrassing the Mister, I merely smiled politely and shook his hand in greeting but my eyes never widened, only stayed narrowed. The Mister and I took our own seats on the same couch opposite to the blonde man.

"I'm glad you came. I was starting to suspect that you weren't going to show, but you're not that kind of person to be tardy are you?" He spoke in a steady tone, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just get to the damn point; what is it that you want?" The Mister said straightforward, his voice raising into impatience. I flinched lightly at his raised tone but hoped that neither of them noticed my timidness in this situation. To my luck, neither of the men seemed aware of it. Thank goodness, I thought; I wouldn't know what to think if the Mister had seen my jump at simply a voice being raised. He would probably laugh at me, I'd become embarrassed and want to leave more than I already do, and the whole situation would have just turned in a different direction for me.

". . . Are you a fucking moron? I'm not trading him and we discussed this, Erwin." My ears and brain caught up to the situation at hand. That whole time I was having a discussion with myself about a silly nothing, the Mister and 'Erwin' were having a discussion of their own. . . about me. But what I'd realized was that Erwin wanted to take me, to trade me. I wouldn't be with the Mister any more, that's what that jerk wanted. Relieved, I felt, that the Mister was objecting in a way that sounded humorous.

"And I thought we planned call off the first name basis. Luckily for you, I will spare your name since. . . yours is in the room and mine is not. I take it things at home are well for the both of you?" Erwin turned to me with his last question. I was about to tell him that it was none of his business, that he should leave the Mister and I to be together; I knew I wanted to but I also knew I couldn't. I would most likely be stuck back in that dungeon and I knew positively that I didn't want that.

The Mister had answered in my place. "Why do you care? If this was all you wanted us for, then we might as well not stay another minute. Are you ready to leave, Eren?" He turned to me, in which I nodded eagerly, a pleading look reflected in my eyes. The both of us stood from the couch, but just as we turned to exit, Erwin called after us and caused us to pause.

"I never said I was finished talking to you, you know."

The Mister retorted with saying he practically never started talking in the first place and I wanted to laugh. I was pleased with the Mister's cocky attitude towards the blonde man, since I took an immediate disliking to him. A congratulatory thanks was in the Mister's near future, he'd earned his stripes according to me. I'd taken the short amount I had within the time of Erwin speaking and the Mister's quick, sarcastic retorts, to respect the fact that my hatred for the blonde man only escalated over such a tiny time period; it hadn't even been ten minutes in that room and I was prepared to toss Erwin in the dungeon I once called home without skipping a beat.

We'd made it to the door, and I took a few quick steps towards the door before the Mister could reach it and held it open for him. It was the least I could do for him practically saving my life.

"I have the girl just down the hall and fifty thousand waiting with her. The choice is yours! You can be fifty thousand richer, buy whatever you want with that spare change and have a beautiful maid to call your own. You don't prefer men over gorgeous women, do you? I wasn't sure I knew you like th-"

"You shut your damn mouth before I do it for you, Erwin. Quit spewing such bullshit and keep your damn money to yourself. I won't give up Eren and you damn well knew that from the start," the Mister shot a dangerous glare back at him. "so here's what you do, you fucking big-shot: take care of that girl, buy her clothes and food and necessities with that damn fifty thousand and pay your damn doorman for his service. If you were a proper man, you already would have known what to do with that money. I suppose I wasn't sure I knew you like that, right Erwin?"

I wanted to give a standing ovation for the Mister's performance. Neapolitan shone a bright red that day; apprehensiveness, happiness, embarrassment, victorious. For now, I was sure to stay careful about what I said or how I acted around him, for he may raise his own voice at me or worse (I hoped for the latter over anything worse). My gaze had located back to Erwin for the time being, who was looking quite shocked and were in a state of dismay. Suddenly, he stood and stuck his nose up at us before smirking impishly.

"You know, you weren't that supportive of them, or anyone really for that matter, before Eren came into your life. Now take a moment and think, who was the one who brought him to you in the first place? Who was the one who, in your time of desperation, brought you a companion to accompany in your wallowing loneliness? So pathetic you were, even when I brought you the blonde boy."

"You speak of him in a degrading way and I'll be sure those words will be your last." The Mister threatened in a deadly, low growl. The blonde boy, I thought. It must have been that maid I'd encountered earlier in the day who brought me breakfast. Such a good meal, it was too! If he was the one who made that all by himself, I would be sure to ask the Mister to thank him for me later. Erwin's thunderous chuckle bounced off the walls and into my ears.

"How you frighten me so. Let's see. . . How would you like the girl to be yours? I'll even keep my money if that's your true wish. Remember though, if you want her, you have to pay; ten thousand we agreed on before, was it?"

"Me giving you ten. . . you giving me fifty? You're shit with money. But. . . It never escaped my thoughts, Erwin. I'll visit later. For now, have a nice day." The Mister bid him a polite farewell, his attitude in complete contrast to the one he had only minutes before. He finally walked forward through the door and without sparing a hateful glance backwards to Erwin, I shut the door with a loud click.

We got back in the car, we clicked our seatbelts, and the Mister started up the car and was on the road within easy seconds. The silence between us was stale; it was almost as if I could feel the weight of the noiselessness. The Mister started up a second cigar, this time without asking for my assistance. He lifted his knees to the steering wheel while he kept the tip of the smoke in between his lips and sparked the lighter into action whilst the other hand covered the flame. I kept glancing over at him, making complete sure that his knees were doing a good job of keeping us on the road. He soon lowered his legs and placed one hand back on the steering wheel, where that hand damn belonged when you were driving. It was so dangerous what the Mister just did! What if his leg got a random twitch and he crashed into the ditch? I wanted to give him a good scolding for that, but our acquaintanceship was only in the early stages – too early for me to scold him, even if as a joke.

After most things calmed down, I returned my mindless gaze to my side window or the wind shield. I hadn't taken into consideration what the Mister could have been thinking in that situation with Erwin or even what he was thinking about this moment. Feeling my teeth clench and my stomach begin to turn, I turned my head to ask him if he was okay, but the Mister'd already beaten me to the punch.

"Don't worry about it, Eren," he said before taking a big inhale of his cigar smoke. "Erwin is a man of business – strictly business. What business he does will be explained to you later rather than sooner. Your past is only known by him and he refused to tell me when I asked when you were younger." Another puff. "But don't get your panties in a bunch," a smirk ghosted over his lips as he glanced over my way. "you're gonna be fine, kid."

Knowing the Mister was the one to clear the air first calmed my frayed nerves a bunch. Such a kind man, I thought. My memory seemed to have tossed every bad thought or remembrance of any bad situation I'd had with the Mister right in the trash. I was thankful for him releasing me from my chilly prison, welcoming me into his home like a regular human being; hope fluttered through my heart that the Mister would discontinue his harsh treatments towards me when I became lonely. I hoped and wished for my own room (it didn't have to be as large as the Misters'), but it soon became apparent to me that it was more than unlikely. I hadn't proved myself yet to him that I am capable of being trustworthy, that I wouldn't try to escape or run amuck in the house; I rather liked the house, to be honest. The light and dark tones contrasting in the halls hypnotized me into a dull trance until I was prepared to make a left or right.

". . . You deaf?" The Mister asked me, a hint of humour apparent in his tone of voice. Dammit, I'd trailed off again and now I'd have to explain myself to him that I wasn't paying attention! I had to stop doing that, it would save me so much time and embarrassment!

"I – I'm sorry, Mister, I didn't hear-"

"I said, you want lunch or what? Your stomach won't shut up." I furrowed my eyebrows in modest confusion and planted my gaze on my stomach. The three of us, my stomach, the Mister and I, were silent for a minute until my stomach was the one to start talking. A long grumble sounded from my insides, and I flushed in bashfulness. The Mister chuckled dryly, a smirk growing on his lips as he landed his temporary gaze on me.

"Tol' ya."

Before I was even really aware of it, a whole day had passed: a day I'd spent solely with the Mister. He treated me to a fair lunch where we were served long noodles with red liquid on top (I learned that it was called spaghetti), and to drink we shared a big bottle of 'sparkling cider'. We were seated at a booth in the back of the restaurant which pleased me because it was so intimate and the only people who surrounded us were couples murmuring lowly to each other in a dim, seductive light. Music, which I never recalled hearing before, played softly in little speakers in the corners of the restaurant. First hearing it, I couldn't keep my mind off of it and I looked very puzzled, according to the Mister. After we'd eaten, the Mister treated me to clothes shopping. I remembered looking him in the eye and telling him that he didn't have to pamper me, and he replied with "I'm not pampering you, damn kid, I'm just being nice. Got a problem with me being nice?" I shook my head no profusely and we carried on with our activities.

He purchased me three new white button-up shirts, three pairs of different fabricated black pants, socks, underwear, and a neat hat that I tried on and the Mister said I looked dumb in. It turned out that we stayed shopping for a whole afternoon and the Mister groaned that he might as well just take me out for dinner too. We went to a different restaurant the second time and we both ordered big sandwiches (they were called hamburgers, but I liked the word sandwiches better) and more of that delicious sparkling cider.

I was so exhausted from our outings that I was told by the Mister when we arrived home that I fell asleep in the car. Embarrassed I was once again for the hundredth time that day, but the Mister didn't seem to care about my little nap so I simply pretended like it'd never even happened. I gathered my bags and finally, after such a long day, was glad to say that I was here – at home. Put those bags in my room, the Mister told me in the doorway of the house before taking off in another direction. I stared after him in question. I had no problem with walking back to his room by myself, but the only problem was that I didn't pay much attention to which way and which turn to take to locate myself back to the Mister's room. I'll figure it out, I thought, how hard can it be finding a room? I made my way up the big set of stairs and began my long journey to re-discovering his room. A long hallway greeted me when I decided that a right turn would suit me right. When I hadn't expected was the familiar blonde maid talking a leisurely stroll, staring longingly out the windows to her left; her – his heels clacked along the black and white tile which sent me wandering through a temporary trance.

"Miss?" I finally asked. I startled her – him noticeably; he halted his walk immediately and turned backwards to face me. "Miss, could you help me find the Mister's room? His bedroom? I, ah, am a little lost. . ." I confessed, chuckling humourlessly to myself. He seemed to take moment to just look at me up and down and take in my image. I felt a little uncomfortable, but noticed I was doing the exact thing to him. My gaze wandered from his little black heels to his pale white legs to his short black and white lacy dress to his blonde bob-cut hair. From that distance, I couldn't have been certain, but I was sure I saw his eyes a beautiful shade of duke blue.

"Yes, Eren." He spoke so softly that his voice hardly reached my ears. His voice, unlike his attire, wasn't that feminine, but a little deeper than I expected. He stepped towards me, his eyes focused steadily on mine. I swallowed once he got close enough; his stare was one that I've surely recognized before but I couldn't place my finger on it quite yet. "This way, please."

The maid guided me correctly to the Mister's room without any attempt of making conversation. This echoing noise of heels clacking against tile and bags rustling against my clothed legs was one of silence that I admired. We finally reached his room after an agonizingly long time consisting of left and right turns and a two minute walk down each isle. The maid was the one to take the leading step towards the door and swing open it for me, for my hands were clearly occupied. I thanked him politely and just before he took off, I called him to wait.

"This is going to sound rude but. . . what's your name?" I watched his lithe body go frigid at my inquiry and I cocked my eyebrow in silent curiosity. He nibbled at his bottom lip for a moment and suddenly founding the black and white tile beneath us more fascinating than I.

"I. . . I can't tell you my name without the permission of the Mister, I'm sorry." The blonde bowed quickly and made a quick turn away from me and rushed down the hallway as fast as his inch high heels would carry him. I took a step out of the Mister's room and gazed in curiosity after him. He seemed to have lifted his hands to his face and I saw his back trembling from a distance which quickly grew. Multiple pangs of guilt shot like lightning throughout my body; it was my fault for asking him his name. It was impolite of me to ask such a personal question and I should have known that the Mister's permission was needed for a topic like that. There's not much I can do about it now, I thought, stepping back into the Mister's quarters. I set my bags down in front of his bed and propped them up against the frame to be sure they were steady sitting like that.

A soft sigh arose from my throat and my body felt empty without the Mister by my side. I turned my head to the side, noticing some movement from the corner of my eye and noticed a mirror with a beautiful wooden-beige frame hung up on the wall. From that angle, I could see my whole body and some of the furniture sitting around the area as well. What could I say other than I looked dashing? I neared the reflective piece of glass and peered closely into it. My face, which was paler than I imagined myself being, looked tired. Light grey half-moons sagged underneath my eyes; tiny dark brown hairs had formed above the bridge of my nose, in between my eyebrows; my cheek bones were hardly noticeable, but taking a close look up-close, it seemed more obvious. The cuffs to my white button-up shirt were rolled up to my elbows from hours ago because of the perspiration I was feeling earlier from the warmness of the shop the Mister and I went to to purchase me extra clothes. There was nothing out of the ordinary with my black dress pants except that the zipper had slid down a few millimetres.

When was the last time I'd seen my reflection? I always thought that my legs and arms were just much lighter than my face. I patted my cheeks, tilting my head to the side in consideration; when was the last time I'd seen my reflection?

"Admiring the mirror, I see?" A voice from behind me made me jump. I spun around, thinking I would've seen Erwin or the maid standing there, but a smile slipped over my lips as I saw only the Mister. I nodded enthusiastically, commenting that indeed, the mirror looked very pretty and so clear. The Mister's smirk from the start only grew; he warned me in a cool voice not to touch the mirror, or I would be the one to cleanse it of its imperfection. I agreed with his terms (it wasn't like I really had a choice in agreeing or not) and I'd suddenly noticed a question surface in my mind seconds later.

"Mister, can you tell me something?" I asked.

"What?"

"What's the meaning of forlorn?"

The Mister seemed to pause for a second, looking as if he was contemplating on telling me or not. Instead, he advised me that I would learn soon enough and walked to the bathroom, already fiddling with his black belt to remove it.

"After my bath, you'll take one and join me in my room for tonight. You've acted well today, Eren. I'm almost guilty to say that I'm impressed with your attitude, since I haven't been impressed with much of anything as of late. . ." The Mister trailed on and began to mutter more to himself rather than speaking to me directly. He closed the door behind him and moments later I heard the sound of running water. For the meantime, I slowly felt a grin form itself on my lips and it was soon accompanied by a warm blush. I'm spending the night with the Mister, I told myself quietly in an excited tone.

It had almost been fifteen minutes and I was relaxed on the Mister's bed, the faint sound of sloshing water came to my ears once and a while. Suddenly feeling too eager to wait any longer for a bath by myself, I launched myself off of the bed without a second thought and barged my way into the bathroom. I expected the Mister to glare at me in a way that even Death himself would cower in fear, but all I received was a bored look and a raised eyebrow.

". . . And what the Hell do you think you're doing?"

"I couldn't wait much longer, Mister. I wanted a bath and wanted to – to spend more time with you! Please allow me to bathe with you!" I quickly bent over in a bow of respect as I finished my ramble. I remained still like that until, it seemed, until minutes later when the Mister sighed and allowed me to bathe with him. The door behind me was shut, my clothes were eagerly stripped from my being and I slid into the tub, divergent to the Mister. The positioning was so awkward because of the tight space; the Mister's legs had to open wide for my legs to fit in between his thighs. The pairs of our knees rose about water level, opposite to the rest of our bodies with the exceptions of anything above our upper stomach. The Mister, who had the wash cloth, carried on with his washing, rubbing the sudsy wet cloth up and down the length of his arms and thighs. I couldn't help but watch his graceful movements, the way the cloth caressed his skin in smooth strokes almost made me jealous until I realized that I was getting jealous of a piece of sopping fabric.

I resisted the temptation of licking my lips as I continued to watch over the Mister's actions. My eyes had discovered a new area to admire so: his chest. That damp, pale, lightly scarred, hairless, gleaming with wetness area made me feel warm inside, a funny feeling I hadn't really ever felt before. What I hadn't noticed was that the Mister caught my obviously interested gaze and glanced mischievously across to me once every while. When he continued washing his legs, he would delve his hands underneath the water for a longer time and make soft sighs while he did so. All I knew was that I would have to get out of the bath after he did.

The Mister exited the water abruptly, standing without shame and went to fetch himself a towel. To spare both of us the embarrassment, I quickly averted my gaze away from him when he stood. Fidgeting in the now empty tub, I chose to grab the cloth that the Mister had used from beneath the murky waters.

"You're not honestly thinking of using that same cloth, are you?" His sudden voice made me jolt in surprise. I turned my gaze towards him and fiddled with the wet fabric in my hands.

"Well. . . Why not, Mister?" I asked, no hint of sarcasm apparent in my voice. He rolled his eyes and scoffed and grabbed me a clean one from a nearby towel and cloth cupboard. The Mister tossed it across the room and into the water in front of me. He advised me to put the dirty one in the clothes hamper since according to him, uncleanliness was not a tolerated thing in this house; it was utterly disgusting. I scrubbed off the weariness of the day and drained out the dirty water from the tub and placed both of the cloths in a nearby wicker hamper which I could only have assumed was the dirty clothes hamper the Mister spoke of. I dressed myself back in my underwear and white long sleeved button-up shirt, tossing the remaining amount of clothing in the dirty hamper. I was suddenly happy of the fact that my arousal had diminished in the minimum amount of time I had alone.

I exited the room and was greeted by calming dimness, the only source of light being one of the bed-side lamp the Mister had turned on beside him. I silently slipped underneath the covers beside him and curled up on my side facing the other way, away from him. The Mister was reading a book; his back was propped against his pillow which in turn was propped up against the back frame of the bed. He was silent – hadn't greeted me from my bath or anything, which didn't bother me as much as I expected it to. The Mister was kind-hearted enough to let me stay in his bed for a night, I couldn't possibly complain about much else.

My mind, within minutes, drifted off into a dreamy Neverland and lulled me into a near peaceful, unconscious state. That was, until I heard the Mister's faint voice speaking aloud.

"Eren? You still awake, kid?" He said. My mind was in such a calm, light state that I hadn't really noticed or cared that he called me kid.

"Mm-m. . . Yes, Mister. . ." Subconsciously, I rolled over to face the Mister. My eyes were being weighed down by a one hundred pound weightless free weights and my breath had been one of an Angel's; it was soft, airy, hardly audible. Through the tiny opening my eyelids allowed me, I watched in a daze the Mister set down his book on his bed-side table and rake his hand through his dark hair.

". . . It means to be pitifully sad; in a state of abandonment and loneliness. Miserable, deserted, alone, cheerless, desolate."

In my half-asleep state, I hadn't realized what the Mister was talking about. I nodded along with what he was saying at a snail's pace, not paying much attention. I allowed my eyes to close and a smile to ghost over my lips.

"Thank you for. . . for telling me, Mister. . . I won't f. . . forget."

A moment before sleep hit me, I figured out that the Mister had explained the meaning of forlorn to me. I was extremely greatful and made a mental note to thank him very much in the morning.

Chapter Two

" . . . What time will you be here? . . . I – Yes, you promised you would bring her here along with the fifty thousand. . . So? Do you really think I give a damn where you are right now? You promised me her, so I expect you to be here in fifteen minutes, you got it, you damn oaf?" My awakening wasn't one of royalty, that was for sure. My cheek was damp against the pillow which certainly hinted that I'd drooled in my sleep and just to confirm it, I turned my head a little to the right and indeed I could feel my cheek still half-warm from the recent saliva. My hopes were that the Mister wouldn't be aware of it. I sat up slowly and stretched my arms above my head before ridding my cheek and chin of drool. The Mister wasn't in the room, but I could hear his voice emanating from beyond the half-open bedroom door. I wasn't really aware that my head lolled to one side as I listened in carefully to the Mister grumbling from behind the door.

"I won't let the same damn incident happen for a third time, you fucking hear me? The blonde kid was a week late, Eren a day, and now the girl. I expect her and fifty thousand in fifteen damn minutes, you halfwit. . . Don't try that bullshit on me, Erwin; I already told you I don't give a shit where the Hell you are. . . What the fuck do you mean by that? I'm not protecting them from anything, they're fending for their own damn selves now. . . Of course he's. . . Oh, fuck yourself Erwin. Fifteen minutes and not a second late, you fool." The Mister sighed from beyond the door, sounding utterly exhausted and it couldn't have been that early; maybe, by the look from the bright light pouring in from the big window, it could have been nine o'clock, not a minute later than ten, at least. The probability of the Mister being tired from the early hours of the day was highly unlikely; I suggested to myself that it was undoubtedly Erwin.

The Mister entered the room and looked not at all surprised that I'd woken up during his phone call. He ruffled his hair with one pale hand and clutched his phone loosely within the other.

"M – Mister? Who is that we're getting?" I asked, trying my hardest not to come off as impolite. I shrunk underneath the cold stare I received from the Mister.

"It is me who's getting her, Eren, not you. Do you own this damn house? Do you pay damn rent? Do you clean?" He inquired me, taking a step closer to me every question he asked. I felt my eyes widen and my body curl over slightly in defeat. I'd done none of those things he'd asked me and I felt like garbage since my role in this house was practically microscopic.

Neapolitan was a cruel shade of dark red that day: my self-esteem had diminished to near nothing, my stomach hadn't been filled until the early hours of evening and my curiosity about the blonde maid and the mysterious woman we – he was receiving, escalated a great deal.

"N – No, Mister. I'm sorry, Mister. I would if I could, Mister, but I don't have a job." I replied in a defeated tone of voice. I felt my chest tighten slightly and resisted the tears which threatened to spill out from my eyes. The Mister stayed quiet for a minute, then sighed, raking his hand through his hair again.

"The maid will be here in a few minutes. Since I'll be gone until evening, I can't guarantee you'll eat until then or not, but let's hope for the better, yeah?" He explained while gathering, what looked like, female black and white maid dresses, long white socks accompanied by black heels, the same as the blonde maid's, and stuffed it all into a big bag. He bid me no further goodbye before he left the room. I sat there alone, feeling alone. My heart felt cold, my fingers and toes felt slightly numb and my further resisting of tears proved useless. I sniffled and sobbed into my hands, feeling a mixture of liquids gather in my palms. Why I was crying so much, I couldn't really explain why. It was evident that my feelings'd been hurt, but rather than that. . . I was oblivious to what I was really feeling: sudden abandonment. Over the past day I'd spent side by side with the Mister, he suddenly left, leaving the air filled with harsh words and half-hearted apologies. I felt like I was going to vomit.

Soon enough, as the Mister had said, the blonde maid entered the room well after my crying fit and escorted me out of the room and back down into the dungeon. He hadn't said anything the whole time we were near each other, but I knew were I was going the second the Mister got upset with me. I heard a quiet I'm very sorry from the blonde before he shut the big metal door with the big metal bolts behind me. My gaze carried around the all-too-familiar area, which sent me unwanted chills. I'd forgotten how cold the room was (if you could even call it a room), how stiff the mattress felt underneath my weight, how thin the sheets were, how unbelievably chilling the floor and walls were. I seated myself on the edge of the cot and dug my forehead into the palms of my hands. My sobbing continued, but the reasons for my blubbering were clearly obvious to me now.

Hours which felt like centuries passed and my meal was finally brought to me by a different maid. She (it was evident it was a she: her breasts bulged the confines of her dress) held a white plate in her hand and set it down in my lap, making no attempt to meet her eyes to mine. She looked as if she desperately wanted to say something, to just spit it out any second, but it was if she was under invisible gunpoint and if she said anything, her brains would be blown all over the walls. She had medium length black hair which shone in a gentle non-existent light and she looked more tan than I, but only by just a bit. Her eyes, I noticed, were an odd shade of dark grey. I couldn't see much more of her before she hastily exited without a word.

Just as the blonde male maid did, she reminded me oddly of someone from my past. There was no vague picture I could compare her to which made it all that more confusing and thought-provoking and it frustrated me. I pushed the maid business to the front of my mind so that way I could distract myself at least a little from the horrible food I knew I'd been served before.

I ended up able to get some shut-eye later in the evening before I'd been awoken by the familiar sound of a familiar door creaking open. It took me a few moments, but I sat up and supported my weight on my hands behind my back. It was the Mister who decided to visit me in my pitiful state. He did something unusual, something he didn't ever do before when he came inside this room and I was feeling alone. The Mister crawled on the bed and ended up over-top of me, pressing his chest to mine and having our faces so near that I could feel his breath whisp over my lips.

"How are you feeling, Eren?" He murmured lowly, staring deeply at me. My breath hitched noticeably in my throat and I felt my eyes half close.

"S – So alone, Mister. . . so forlorn. . ." I replied in a soft whimper as I edged closer to him, arching my back so our chests pressed tighter together. The Mister said nothing but did something else new: he leant in close to my neck and bit down harshly, ripping a dry groan from my throat. I whined in sudden need to be nearer to the Mister, and tilted my head back as his teeth continuously dug in to my neck and shoulder. He instructed me strictly, breathing against my neck warmly, to strip off my underwear, which I had been clad in all day.

I quickly obeyed him and slipped them off to my ankles and kicked them the rest of the way off. I felt his cool hands seemingly come from no where and move to my thighs and spread them open. Slight confusion clouded my head since the Mister hadn't ever comforted me facing me before. The confusion was quickly replaced with lust and need as one of the Mister's hands touched me in a place that was usually forbidden from others to touch. I groaned gutturally, my hands going to his clothed back and digging my short, chewed at nails into the light fabric. The Mister didn't seem to be one to pleasure another before himself but it seemed he had a change of mind for tonight; it was as if he'd realized something about me attracted him. That, or I assumed he was just very desperate for special attention.

Touching hadn't lasted long between our heated bodies, for the Mister soon became impatient and wanted more fast. I complied obediently and allowed him what he wanted. I clung tightly to his bare thighs as they moved back and forth against mine; my eyes closed in such ecstasy that I hadn't ever taken the time to familiarize myself with. Goosebumps flooded my skin and I could feel every hair on my pale body stand on end as the overflowing feelings of pleasure began to be too much for my aroused state. I felt my throat gave way euphoric cries of bliss, my grip on the Mister's skin anxiously tightened as I sensed my end nearing. I shuddered with a loud cry, feeling my chest and stomach quickly become damp. The Mister's pace got frantic and desperate, which stimulated me more and more again every second he continued on. I could hear his heavy, heaving gasps through the night and dared to open my eyes. His expression was one of utter ecstasy; his eyes were closed shut tightly, his mouth gaped slightly, his face flushed. I wanted to continue badly, wanted to continue until my body collapsed of exhaustion, but the feeling of the Mister's orgasm made me realize that there would be no more tomfoolery for the night – or rather, for a few more minutes until he recovered.

Without staying for much longer, the Mister remained still for a few moments until he decided it was time to leave me be. He re-clothed himself and stood to leave. I was still on my back on the cot, my thighs open and the evidence of our naughty deeds on my chest. Through my disoriented gaze, I watched the Mister look back at me and smirk.

"You gonna clean yourself up and come with me, or what?" It took me a minute to realize what he'd meant by that, and I did what he asked of me (except for cleaning my chest just yet, I would wait until we arrived at the Mister's quarters). I followed him closely out of the room and down the hall until the pair of us got to the Mister's room. He told me to go wash myself off in the wash room, in which I followed his orders; my chest and nethers were cleansed until I was pleased and the dirty cloth was tossed into the clothes hamper. I entered the bedroom for a second time, expecting the Mister to be awake and alert and ready for more, but wrong was I. He was turned on his side, facing towards the other side of the bed where my spot was awaiting me. I quietly slid under the covers and neared the Mister's sleeping form. Though he was noticeably shorter than me, the way he placed himself on the bed gave off the impression that he was a fraction taller than my own height. Unsure about his waking, I dared to tuck my head under his chin and nudge my bare knees against his bare legs under the sheets. Sleep greeted me quickly that night.

My waking consisted of the faint sound of clothing rustling every few seconds. I furrowed my brows and sat up, still in a sleepy haze. I had to blink a few times for my vision to clear, and I saw the black haired maid bent over a laundry hamper in the Mister's room. She had a half-filled basket of used clothes perched on her hip supported by her muscular-looking arm, and continued to pile more on top of more. I cleared my throat, taking the most obvious route for her to notice me awake. She stood straight and faced me, her eyes focused on mine.

"Good morning, Eren." She greeted me in a cool voice which reminded me of the Mister's. In a sudden surge of remembrance, my eyes widened then narrowed seconds later.

". . . How do you know my name? Both you and the blonde maid know my name but I don't know either of yours. The Mister told you, didn't he?" I inquired, watching the maid's face contort slightly in hopelessness. We remained silent eye contact for minutes on end until she spoke in that oh-so familiar voice again.

"The Mister needn't not tell me your name, Eren. The. . ." She struggled continuing on, her voice getting softer. "- the blonde maid and I are. . . already familiar with you." I could have sworn on my life that she whispered "please remember" after she explained her situation.

Sudden flashes of images of a young black haired girl with a red scarf two sizes to big for her and a young blonde boy came to my mind. They were laughing, happy. A mother figure which resembled my image joined the flashes as well, smiling along with the other children. A hand protruded from the bottom of an image, the rest consisting of the blonde boy's red sobbing face and his frail body tucked into itself. The next quick image showed him smiling and taking (what I had guessed was) my hand, and the black haired girl beside me beaming down at him.

I gasped loudly, feeling energy drained from my body already. I lifted my gaze to the maid's and stared her dead in the eye. I felt my body tremble as I spoke and I gripped the white sheets covering my waist down.

"I. . . I know you, don't I? Or rather, I knew you. . . ?" Her eyes widened a considerable amount and she bit at her plump bottom lip. I noticed her grip on the laundry basket tighten until her knuckles where a pale colour and saw some colour drain from her face and neck as well. "Answer me! I remember you and the blonde boy! Who are you?!" I yelled suddenly, not sincere about my raised tone. My mind was spinning and I felt nauseous from the mere thought of forgetting what looked like dear old friends of mine. The maid flinched and frowned softly at my tone of voice.

"We. . ." She sighed. " . . . were all friends when we were little. . . Unfortunately, Eren, in this situation, you were the only one to lose your memory of the two of us, not to mention your aunts, uncles, your mother, and your father." She explained quietly, setting the basket down on the carpet. Before she continued on, she shut the bedroom door closed and seated herself on the bed by my side. We were so close that I could sense her melancholy aura. "Your mother was – is named Carla. Such a lovely woman she was when we were young; she would always bring out lunch for us during the noon and drinks for when we were busily playing in the front yard. Now, your father, Grisha, was an odd man – well, to me at least. He was always either inside busy working on a paper or away on a business trip. Your mother and him never had a strong relationship, as far as I knew.

"Grisha, before he would go on business trips, would flash you a golden key tied around his neck and say that when you're old enough, he would show you what was in your basement and you would just. . . You would just beam pure sunlight, you were so excited about knowing what that was down there. Personally, I never understood it, but it must have been such an important thing to you. I remember one night specifically when all throughout the house, we could hear Carla and Grisha fighting. You could hear Carla hush his tone loudly, but he would just go on and on. You crawled into my bed that night, explaining that you just couldn't sleep, but we both knew what it was because of. Eren," She turned to me in a more comfortable position and gently touched my forearm with the tips of her fingers and I could see she was crying. " – my name is Mikasa. You saved me – you saved me from dying. I am your adoptive sister. A group of three or four men killed my parents in front of me and you were the one to take revenge on them when they held me hostage. You were only so young then, Eren. . . That night, you wrapped your favourite red scarf around my neck and adopted me into your family. I remember crying uncontrollably that night and you comforted me as long as I needed it.

"His name is Armin – Armin Arlert, the blonde maid. . . The three of us were inseparable. We, well it was mostly you and Armin, would convince our home-room teachers every school year to have all three of us in a class together; you promised we would behave ourselves, but," she paused to chuckle. "they always knew we never would. Nevertheless, they would accept our offer every year up until three years ago. We were all twelve, going into grade seven, when during the first week of school, you or Armin weren't present. Your mother, father and I searched desperately for days for the both of you. . . I remember your mother telling me with a smile that she was going senile without you around, Eren. She missed everything about you – your green eyes to your brown fluffy hair to the way you thanked her for the meals she cooked to the way you smiled at her adoringly. You and your mother truly had an unbreakable bond, so it was unexplainable why you two would have ran away – or at least, that's what we all had assumed what the situation was. Everybody at school was worried about your guys' disappearance, even the teacher – even the principal. You both were so dear to every person in that school that at lunch and during the gym periods, the teachers would permit us to search on and off school property for you two as long as we never came back late.

"I remember walking home from school one day, weeks to a month after your disappearance, and a strange blonde man from a van's open passenger door called my name. I asked who the hell they were and they said they knew where the two of you were. Of course, I came closer to them and ordered them to tell me where you were. They told me that you two were being held somewhere but they couldn't damn tell me exactly where and instructed me strictly not to tell anyone I knew or that anyone told me. The man told me that I would be able to see you again when they were ready and they were ready a week ago. I was walking home and the same man pulled up in that same van and called my name again. He informed me that you both were at a house far away waiting for me, and without really thinking, I got in the vehicle willingly. I didn't expect to be hit over the head, blindfolded, and gagged. I was terrified, thinking that I'd been tricked by an evil man who didn't actually know where your guys' presence was.

"My meals for a whole five days were scarce and in small portions. I was held in a small dark room with an uncomfortable bed, an old toilet, and pounds of money scattered about in a corner. I was so terrified of the food being laced with something that I wasn't able to eat for two of those five days. Until two days ago, my hope to find you two had returned to me. I heard raised voices from somewhere above my ceiling and heard your name said; I knew that you were safe. Then, I was suddenly concerned for the whereabouts of Armin. I listened as well as I could, holding my breath and pressing a hand over my chest so it would hopefully quiet my heartbeat. I heard mention of a 'blonde boy' and I knew instinctively that it must have been him, it had to. The Mister is an odd man, Eren. I wouldn't place any trust in him: he's in a strange business, a business that involves maids and slaves. He was why us three were robbed of our freedom and sentenced to live life behind closed doors.

"But, you, Eren, somehow changed the Mister." She jabbed her finger into my chest, forcing me back a little. "You showed him a side of you that only spouses are allowed to see, didn't you?" Mikasa, my old childhood best friend, accused me. I swore, I've never listened so attentively in my damn life. I was hesitant to answer her accusation, hesitant to tell her that she was right. Though, I was still having a tough time with absorbing all of the information I'd received in a whole lecture in one sitting. My last three years of existence consisted of being shoved in a cold, dark room and fed little to nothing until only recently.

Neapolitan was an evil shade of dark grey: the truth being revealed from the least suspecting victim in the situation, I'd been locked up in a damn Hell-hole for three damn torturous years, and my feelings for a fucking man – a man – flourished. I nodded in noticeable guilt to Mikasa's accusation.

". . . I'm sorry, Mikasa. I'm sorry that I couldn't have remembered you or Armin, nor my mum, nor my father without your help." I inhaled and exhaled slowly and Mikasa lowered her softening finger from my chest. She gazed at me, I could see from the corner of my vision, in silent soberness. "The one I've fallen for is the Mister, and my feelings are solid. . . I wish I could change everything that's happened and just go back to our old normal life. But the both of us know that that won't be possible: I've become too emotionally attached to the Mister, and now that the three have us have reunited in this house, why can't we stay here? It's big enough for at least twenty people to live here, so why can't the three of us? You could have your own room, Armin could too. . ." I drifted off, feeling Mikasa's gaze become bitter toward me.

". . . You're a changed man, Eren. . . He's corrupted you in so many ways you haven't even realized." She remarked snidely, scoffing in my direction moments later. I huffed angrily, telling her that he did no such thing and I believed, truly, that what I was saying was the truth. Mikasa remained silent for a minute after what I'd said, then stood without a word, gathered the rest of the dirty clothes from the wicker laundry hamper, hoisted the full basket to her hip and left.

I heard hushed voices from outside, then minutes later the Mister entered the room. Slowly, he closed the door behind him and his eyes met mine.

Seemingly without emotion, he said: "So. . . You know now, don't you? The history of your life, the history of what I do, the history of your friends." He neared me, but just as I thought he would sit beside me on my side of his bed, he instead sat on his side, faced away from me, and hunched over. "I did it for the benefit of your own. The initial slavery announcement was made by Erwin who phoned me one day and told me he 'had someone'. That someone was a damn bothersome kid – you. You've been here three years, inside, without real escape, I admit. Damn it all, I didn't expect to get so fucking attached to a damn child. . ." He muttered, raking a hand through his hair and sighing quietly. Feeling like I couldn't do much rather than apologize, I mumbled an apology, feeling tears gather in my eyes from all of this information hitting me so suddenly like a brick to a glass window.

"Don't apologize, it just brings down the mood even more." The Mister replied without missing a beat. I nodded in silence, accepting the order I'd received. The two of us remained silent, I, shuffling the covers on my waist around in awkward awaitingness, and he, just hunched over, sitting there and staring into the depths of nothingness. Without sudden realization of what was happening, the Mister had somehow pushed me down on to the bed and towered over me, his hips resting on my thighs.

A blush arose to my cheeks, I could feel, and my eyes went wide. "M – Mister. . . !" As he delve in down to my neck, he muttered to me to shut up and enjoy my damn treatment. My vision became spotty seconds in to his bites and sucks to my sensitive areas which he'd quickly discovered. Soft whines and gasps of sudden surges of pleasure escaped my lips without my permission, and the Mister seemed fairly pleased with the reactions he was receiving. I felt my nethers become warm as well as the areas surrounding it: my lower stomach, my thighs. I heard a dry chuckle rise from the Mister as he locked his eyes on mine. I was sincerely confused: the atmosphere had changed with a snap of the Devil's fingers. My mind was quickly directed to much more "important" matters within seconds.

"You're really feeling it, aren't you?" He asked, lifting his hand and roughly grinding his hand down against my privates. I lifted my hips in a desperate attempt to receive more, in which the Mister obliged with my silent request. My hands lead themselves to the mess of sheets beneath us and twisted my fingers in the fabric, gripping and pulling at it, whining and moaning. To my pleasant surprise, the Mister slipped his fingers underneath the confines of my pants and boxers. Somehow, with such pleasure I'd never felt before, the Mister was my tutor in the thrill of satisfaction. This man who'd I'd only known for three years, taught me in both the most harshest and gentlest ways about the secret pleasures of another human body, including my own. Please, I begged, more! The Mister grunted and told me to keep my fuckin' comments to myself. He flipped me on to my back and I felt a powerful hand on the back of my neck support some of his own weight in some way. The feeling of dry entrance forced me to scream into the depths of the fabric of the pillow where I'd rested my head just an hour ago. Our bodies moved in sync and the creakiness of the luxurious bed beneath us arose to our ears. As the Mister's pace sped, I could hear harsh grunts every so often; his noises clearly did not overpower my own – my yowls of both pain and pleasure echoed in the room accompanied by the soft clunking noise of the Mister's bed bumping into the wall in front of it periodically.

"D – Dammit, Eren . . ." He sighed in a strained tone as the pleasure had overtaken my body and my hips were slamming back against his own in a desperate attempt to get more – more of what exactly? I wasn't sure, but I just knew that more was all I needed. Through the thick, hot air, I could feel the Mister's hand curl in slightly and rake his short but sharp nails down the middle of my back. A delighted shiver shot through my body, and it only fueled my moans, grunts, groans, sighs. "Sh . . . Shit–!" The pressure of the Mister's body collapsed slightly down on to my back, and pace only hardened, the wet sounds of slapping skin echoed. My orgasm came suddenly, a loud, long cry ripping from my throat in the process. The Mister joined me not long after in a beautiful place called bliss; his body became stiff and his warmness spread throughout my body in a slow but sure process.

I thanked the Mister as we stayed still, catching our breath.

"What the Hell are you thanking me for?" He retorted, removing himself from my being and remaining sat up. In a fuzzy haze, I turned on to my back and smiled dreamily up at him.

"For everything." Those two words seemed to have struck something inside of the Mister, for he looked both shocked and utterly confused. I continued smiling up at him, truly thankful what he'd introduced me to. If it hadn't been for the birth of an uptight, rude blonde man who brought me initially to the Mister, our paths would have never crossed in a million years. Would I have been happier with my family I had? The odds were against the Mister for that question, but nonetheless, I would so glad I met him even if the situation in whole was a pitiful one.

"Che, you're talking bullshit," He said, getting up to clothe himself. "– you always do that. Pisses me off. . ." The Mister mumbled grumpily. His body was fully clothed in a matter of moments and he briefly informed me that I was free to do what I pleased today as long as I didn't bother him much before he left the room. For minutes, I simply lied there in a lovely afterglow. I muttered something before dreamy darkness greeted me that even I, myself, didn't really believe, but felt like it was the perfect time to release.

"I love you, Mister."

Chapter 3

"– Eren! Wake up!" Mikasa shook me awake in seconds; I turned to her to tell her just five more minutes, but her expression was one of panic and worry, which caused me to look the same. I sat up and asked her what was worrying her so much. "Armin! He's. . . He's gone. . . ! The Mister went after the guy who took him but I don't know who – !"

"Mikasa. . . Take a deep breath and calm down," I patted the spot beside me, wanting her to relax, even if it lasted a few minutes. Reluctantly with a stressed sigh, she took a seat. ". . . now, what happened exactly? What was the Mister doing? Was it like a break-and-enter?" Mikasa explained the situation as best as she possibly could in her panicked state; she said that the Mister was in his office upstairs and she was busily cleaning the dishes in the downstairs kitchen when suddenly she heard loud banging noises coming from the front door. One every few seconds, she said. Mikasa said she scrambled for a place to hide and protect herself, and from the view she had, Armin was scurrying as fast as he could for a place to hide as well. But, unfortunately, the time had rushed much too quick for Armin to get to place of protection. A woman, she said, clad in a light brown pant-suit with black sneakers and her brown hair tied up in a ponytail, rushed in from the front door and roughly hoisted Armin on to her shoulder and escaped within a matter of moments.

It had been too quick of a situation for Mikasa to comprehend what was really happening, but when she heard a car speed off, the gravel beneath the tires flinging and flaring almost everywhere, she hollered as loud as she could for the Mister to do something – anything. I had begun to panic as she explained the incident, suddenly feeling unsafe in the Mister's house, even in his own bed. This could have happened to any one of us, but for this to happen to Armin. . . Suddenly, Mikasa was silent and still and she lowered her head.

". . . Come, Eren. We should clean up the lobby before the Mister comes back with Armin." She'd said in a low murmur, standing moments later and stepping out of the room. In slight shock, I sat there absorbing what had just been told to me, listening to the fading noise of Mikasa's black heels clacking against the tile in the hall.

I was shot back into reality and my legs seemed to move at their own pace. Before I rushed downstairs, I'd dressed myself in one of the many white long-sleeved button up shirts that the Mister'd purchased me, along with a pair of matching black dress pants. A jog carried me downstairs and into the lobby of the large – very large – house. Mikasa was just shutting the front door behind her and as I took my final steps down the staircase, she pressed her back and flat palms against the door. Her lips quivered and she released a shaky sigh before bursting into tears. I rushed to her side and embraced her shivering frame, muttering "it'll be okay"'s and "they'll come back in one piece"'s, hoping in my gut that what I said truly happened.

Mumbling in a soft tone, I said, "You're strong, Mikasa, so quit this nonsense crying. Like you said, let's tidy up for when the Mister and Armin come back." Mikasa lifted her head and it took her a few moments to register the understanding smile on my lips. She eventually nodded and gently pushed herself away from me. I said nothing more, afraid of accidentally saying something to upset her more. I watched Mikasa return to the kitchen and I took my place going to fetch a broom and sweep the front entrance. Jesus, I hoped, that they both would return safely.

Hours later without much conversation between Mikasa and I (not including an 'excuse me' when one of us passed by in a narrow space which was rare in such wide hallways, or a soft 'hi' which in that case, I always sparked the reply), the Mister returned home. Mikasa had collapsed in stressed exhaustion minutes previous to his sudden arrival in a curled up heap on the living room sofa, and I had no desire to wake her yet. I supposed it had began raining in the noon since the Mister was sopping when he set foot inside. My feet quickly carried me to his presence which I desperately ached for while he was away. I had not seen Armin trailing behind him in a wet mess and my heart began to race in anxiousness.

"M. . . Mister? Where is Armin?" I asked tentatively. I received no reply other than a slight glare before he slipped off his extremely damp loafers and walked his way up the stairs; it looked as if his leg was an inch shorter than the other, but the physical image of his body did not give off that impression. He looked like he supported a quarter of his weight on one side of his body, then the other fraction on the other. When I lost sight of him, I found it odd that he had not shut the front door behind him. Pushing away the fact that it was absolutely pouring outside, I made my way out the door and closed it respectfully behind myself. There, I saw, was the Mister's long, black car with the driver's side window shattered almost completely, and a few little holes in the wind shield. Cracks flowered from the entry and my curiosity was at its peak. Raindrops flew from the dark skies and pattered over my cheeks and chin and forehead as I stepped closer and closer to the Mister's vehicle. I peered inside carefully, wary to avoid the sharp-looking shattered glass framing the window, and saw the Mister's seat surely becoming damp. He'll be mad when he sees the seat, I thought, since he himself was a clean freak and wanted everything how he wanted. My hand trailed to the handle and I entered the vehicle to inspect further for any signs of Armin or much of anything else.

Nothing inside of the car alarmed me or came off as a warning signal of traces of Armin's presence. A big blanket in the back-seat in a heap made me narrow my eyes, but I had convinced myself in such a short amount of time that it was no doubt some type of gang. . . thing that was none of my business. I exited the car without much of a second thought and worry suddenly hit my being like a fierce hurricane to a lone farm. Armin was not in the car, nor was he with the Mister. Something that looked suspiciously like some kind of a weapon entry in the wind shield caused my heart to race. Where was he? Where was he, dammit!

In a clumsy, frantic jog, I directed my vision to any direction I possibly could in a desperate search to find my blonde, completely innocent childhood friend. Once reaching the bare, wet road, I collapsed to my knees and pounded my tightly clenched fists on the concrete. I screamed bloody murder into the millions of droplets surrounding me, as if they were the ones responsible for what happened to Armin.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, dammit!" I repeated over and over, my throat being ripped raw from the painful screams that escaped from between my teeth. "He didn't deserve this!" I couldn't bear to tell Mikasa that Armin hadn't returned when all that time we waited, I continued on assuring her that nothing would turn for the worse. I couldn't bear watching her face slip into a frustrated depression and watch wordlessly as tears fall from her eyes; I couldn't bear it. Although my memory had only returned to me not even days previous, Armin, I knew, had been a precious piece to my puzzle. From what Mikasa told me, the three of us were inseparable. . . It would never return to that now, not even if we tried. . .

A light tap to my right shoulder ripped me from my thoughts and I twisted my head around to see who it was, who dare interrupt me in the time I mourn.

The blonde whom I screamed desperately to return stood behind me, reaching down with his hand. A smile gently caressed his lips and his face was a light red.

"Let's go inside. You'll catch a cold if you stay out here much longer, Eren."

Chapter 4

The Mister, that night while bathing with me, explained the whole situation. Erwin was a man of business, he said, and he wanted nothing less than what he damn wanted. He couldn't have just broken in, and searched for, no doubt, hours for the safe where the fifteen thousand dollars that he gave the Mister was. He explained that if he didn't get the money back, he would just take something important from him instead. Erwin's plan was rob either three of us – Mikasa, Armin, or me – from the Mister and force the back money back into Erwin's hands that way. I exclaimed that he was such a jerk and asked why the Mister worked with the blonde oaf in the first place.

"Income," he said. "I have to make money some way, Eren, and that's how I do." I wanted to say that I understood his job and his ethics, but in serious honesty, for the life of me, I couldn't conjure up a single positive thought about the Mister's type of work. We washed our bodies individually, and I took precious time to sit there for a moment and plot up a scene for the Mister and I to spontaneously play out. I guessed my sudden stillness made him curious (or annoyed), for he cocked his eyebrow and asked what the Hell was wrong with me. My gaze met his and for a moment longer, I remained still. The second that I gathered up the courage, I maneuvered myself so that my body replaced the spot in between the Mister's thighs. He chuckled at the gall I had to come so close to him. "What's this now?"

"Mister. . . Your name – what is it?" I mumbled softly, balancing myself on my knees in such a way where I could remove my elbow from a supporting position and let my hand gently caress the Mister's chest. He stared at me in bewilderment, his usually narrowed eyes becoming slightly wide. I played the innocent face, gazing back at him with a gentle tenderness and moving my thumb back and forth in place on his pale, damp chest. A dry chuckle arose from him after moments of blank staring.

"If I told you, Eren, I would have to kill you." A mild smirk spread across his lips and his hand (which he previously removed from the warm water) ran through my hair. I daringly returned the same kind of smile and inhaled softly before leaning up slightly to him.

"If that's how it goes, then that's how it goes." I retorted, ghosting my dry lips over the Mister's own. He muttered to me about me being a ballsy brat and remained silent for a minute, as if he was taking the time to think. In the meantime, I drew meaningless little circles and patterns over the bare canvas I had all to myself and pressed my body as close as I wanted to his. The Mister's hand reached back into my hair and he unexpectedly ripped my head back. Before I could ask him what was going on, I felt his lips latch on to my throat and kiss and nip and suck. Gentle moans dragged out from my lips and I leant in to the Mister's sudden gentleness, rather than any other time he takes the time to attack my neck.

"Look, kid. . ." He mumbled against my skin. "few people in this world know my name: my family, Erwin, specific businessmen and people from my past. I'm not sure if you're worthy enough of knowing my name."

I gasped through my teeth, "I'll be able to call your name out loud when we. . ." I chuckled airily, finishing my sentence there. The Mister eventually removed his lips from my neck and glared at me in childish way. I added a sweet please, hopefully able to butter him up a little more. Before speaking properly, he opened his mouth slightly, paused, then closed it.

". . . It's Levi." He finally said. Here I was, Eren, delving into the depths of the Mister's – Levi's past and thoughts and memories and feelings without a swift second thought. I had gotten farther getting to know him in just a few weeks than I had done in my years of captivity. I smiled softly, deeply surprised and impressed that he had actually bothered to tell me his name. A boy, age of fifteen, had made an old, grumpy man reveal his identity, to which he had never willingly offered his name to not-so-important people.

"Well, Levi," I started, my voice low and soft. "thank you. I'll be sure to keep your name in mind when we're in bed." My smile drifted into a seductive smirk and my lips latched on to Levi's neck. I felt his breath hitch in his throat when my teeth grazed the sensitive, sucked on skin.

"Bothersome little shit. . ."

Days after, Levi had become grumpy. I offered to serve him tea, to allow him relaxation alone, but he just sneered at me and snapped that that was the damn maid's job. A cold distance formed between us and I assumed it was my fault. When the time had come for the house to become dark and the servants to take their rest, Levi never spared a second glance over at me. My previous feelings of curious embarrassment toward him faded into numb nothingness. I reminded myself each night since then that I cared deeply for the man who took me into his – his "care", that I shouldn't let those feelings of love drift off into anything else. Just last night, I had become fed up with the indignant silence and asked him if there was anything wrong, if I could help at all. He turned to me, shut his book and pursed his lips. You keep your fucking questions to yourself, kid, he said. I slept on the living room sofa last night – it wasn't comfortable at all; I tossed and turned for hours until I became so exhausted of counting sheep and staring up at the boring ceiling I had once been fascinated with, that I fell asleep.

The morning after, Armin awoke me with a soft smile. He leant over me with a careful gaze and gently shook my shoulder.

"Hu – uuuh..?" I mumbled, blinking myself alert. He chuckled lightly and politely informed me that breakfast was awaiting me on the dining room table. I stood, wobbling slightly at first, but eventually walked my way to my morning meal. The long marble table seemed longer this morning: Levi was seated in his usual seat at the other end of the table, newspaper in his lap, his usual cup of coffee in his usual white mug, his usual half-eaten breakfast plated on the dish in front of him. My meal was the same as his, minus the disgusting black drink, and the plate was cleared in a matter of minutes. I avoided Levi's wandering, solid gaze carefully. I could feel him stare at me from the distance between us often and I quickly relocated my own look to the suddenly interesting wall to my right.

"Oi," His voice boomed suddenly. I jumped in my seat a few centimetres and stared directly over at him in surprise. "What's your issue?" Levi peered at me boredly, shifting his weight in his chair and fluffing up the paper in his hand. I blinked for a moment and repeated, what's my issue? What's my issue? I had no issue: my only problem was being concerned with his own stubborn attitude.

"I have no issue, Mister," I said, shaking my head. "I'm only eating my breakfast."

"Don't you fuck with me and your shitty sense of humor. What's wrong with you?"

I glared over at him, placing my fork on my dish and leaning forward in my chair. "Nothing is wrong, Mister. You've been avoiding me all this time and I've been giving you your space since you don't want much to do with me."

Mikasa silently entered the room, her lips pursed tightly together in unsure awareness of the situation around her. She took both my plate and Levi's, and was quick to exit the room immediately after. Levi smirked at me smugly, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Aah? Is that so? Well," He folded his paper and set on the table. "I suppose I have been quite ill-mannered toward you." Levi shuffled his chair backwards a few inches and relaxed, resting his elbows on the arms of his seat. He told me to come to him, that everything would be okay again if I did. Reluctantly, I pulled myself out of my chair and took tedious steps towards the reclined man. Under the table, he told me. My knees met the floor and I was met with the image of Levi's spread legs. "You know what to do, don't you?" He asked me in a teasing tone; I could hear the smirk evident in his voice from above the table.

A soft zip sounded and I freed Levi from his cotton confines. As I neared his need, a sighed softly, feeling my eyes dim.

"M – Mmh." My cheeks hollowed, my throat relaxed, my perspiring palms rested on his clothed thighs. A curious tongue travelled swiftly up, down, around. Huffs of hot breath came from under the table through the pleasurer's nostrils while a circle-shaped pair of lips moved skilfully to satisfy the greedy man above the table. The man above tempted the boy underneath with a cocky, is that the best you can do? The hot mouth moved quicker, the tongue residing inside swirled and flicked and maneuvered as best as it could. Soft groans came from the man with black hair while numerous sighs and moans came from the boy with brown hair. The dull tip belonging the need of the man hit the back of boy's throat and a warm release filled the cave to the brim.

I coughed harshly, leaning away from the leaking appendage.

"Ah, you're getting better, Eren." Levi awarded me from above, and I heard a small chuckle arise from his chest. Embarrassed, I wiped any remaining fluids away from my chin with my sleeve and crawled out from underneath the table. It was almost as soon as I stood, I was immediately yanked into Levi's lap, his hands wandering to my waist. "Let's fuck here." My cheeks flushed a bright red and I stared at the man under me in amazement.

"I – In the dining room? Now? We can't! Anyone could walk in at any moment!" I nagged, but despite my strong words of protest, I continued to feel the tingling sensation of Levi's wondrous hands travel along my back from under my shirt. A soft whine escaped my throat as his hands moved swiftly from my back to my chest, and his lips at my throat. I tilted my head back, feeling the fight inside of me drift off. I had forgotten how my anger, practically minutes ago, had bubbled until I had the audacity to back-talk Levi; now look at the situation I was in: panting like a dog in heat on Levi's lap, feeling his crotch grind wonderfully against mine, feeling his teeth scrape against my sensitive flesh, feeling his thumb and forefinger tweak my breasts.

"You know. . ." Levi murmured lowly against my throat. "I didn't really think about it until now, but perhaps you're right." He leant away from me, smirking devilishly. "We shouldn't fuck here." My eyes widened considerably, my jaw hung loose. "Now get off me, you're getting heavy and you're squishing my dick."

Obediently, I stood from Levi's lap. Feeling like I couldn't do much other than stand there weak-kneed from the previous arousal still surging through my veins, I waited for him to tuck himself back into his pants and stand from his seat. He brushed by me, quickly enough for our shoulders to meet in a clash and swing me a different direction. Without a backwards glance, Levi left me alone in the dining room: confused with an erection.

"Shi – it. . ."

Chapter 5

It dawned on me suddenly that Levi and I had become lovers. We shopped together, went to restaurants together, slept together, and slept together. Although we were in a relationship, I wondered if I was supposed to tell him I loved him. Love: a word of which I couldn't define. What was it, I asked myself, what does it mean? I took into consideration that I loved Mikasa and Armin and my father and my mother, but a man who kept me shadowed in a basement for three years? I was very unsure of this uncanny word 'love'.

I rested my forehead against the back of Levi's neck as we lied together one night in a peaceful dimness. My fingers played lightly with the hem of his shirt, my nose gently nuzzled his soft, warm skin. I wonder, I began to think, if I ever told Levi that I loved him. . . would he return the favour? After I told him, would he scoff and call me a freak? Would I be able to show my face around him again? I felt giddy to ask. My unsure fidgeting must have awoken Levi, for he turned around slowly and sleepily.

". . . What's your problem. . . ?" Levi asked in a sleep-slurred voice. I nibbled on my bottom lip, watching his eyes open bit by bit in anxiousness. When I didn't reply quick enough, he narrowed his eyes once they were open enough and glared. He lectured me, asking me if I woke him up for bullshit nonsense. As I said nothing once more, he began to turn around to get comfortable for sleep again.

I caught my breath before I asked, "what does love mean?" Levi stopped moving for what seemed like millenniums. I felt my eyes go wide, felt my breath hitch in my throat, felt my body lock stiffly as if I was in a casket.

"Why do you wanna know, huh? You seeing someone else other than me? Never thought of you as a cheater, Eren."

"N – No, that's not it at all! I don't cheat – I would never. It's just. . . something's been on my mind for a while now, and it's bugging me. . ." I drifted off, looking around everywhere and anywhere, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. Slowly but eventually, Levi turned back to face me. A silently delighted smile (a smile so light you could barely notice it) crossed his lips as he turned back to me.

"So what're you trying to say?" He inquired smugly, waiting patiently for a reply. I fidgeted, hearing my heartbeat pound in my ears. I stuttered, trying to find the right words – trying to find out what exactly to say and how exactly to say it.

"It's just, I – I, um, I – ah, you see. . ."

"Just spit it out. It's not like anything you say's gonna kill you." Levi said, opposite of his previous attitude: he sounded and looked impatient to wait any more for a serious answer. My breathing was heavy and I could feel my hands trembling underneath the sheets. It wasn't at all cold, but I was shivering as if it was ten below.

". . . So, ah, you know. . . Levi, I – I kind of, ah. . . I mean, I think I. . . I – I think I love you. . . ?" Levi went quiet for a bit, but chuckled, much to my aggravated luck. He sat up in the midst of the darkness with little struggle.

"You think you're old enough to say that to a man my age? I'm twenty-eight, Eren, and you're fifteen; this is practically paedophilia." I sat up as well, shocked to hear his official age. Twenty-eight, he said? My, he looked older than that to be honest – looked to be at least in his early thirties. I hunched over and scratched my cheek, trying to word out what to say next.

"W – Well, I. . . yes, yes I take on the responsibility of caring for you and tending to your needs whenever you need me. I'll be by your side through thick and thin," I grabbed his hands with my own and faced him, looking directly into his eyes. "and I promise to love you for as long as I know you." Once again, Levi went silent for a minute, then burst out in sudden innapropriate laughter. I felt my cheeks go ablaze in the midst of my embarrassment.

"You sound like we're getting fucking married. Don't worry, kid, I love you too." He said and removed his hand from mine and ruffled my hair playfully. A wave of relief flooded over me and I sighed quietly in thankfulness. Levi shrugged off the blankets from his body and maneuevered himself so he was ready to stand from the bed. I was just about to lay down and fall right back asleep peacefully, but a rather loud thud spooked me and made me jolt. I quickly looked over to the other side of the bed and did not see Levi standing nor laying in the bed. My feet carried me swiftly to his aid and I carefully helped him to his feet. He grumbled about not needing any help, that he could get up himself, but from the way he was resting his weight against me so heavily, I could tell that something was wrong. I drug him into the bathroom and set him down on the edge of the bathtub, taking quick notice of white bandages wound around his mid-drift.

"W – What that Hell is that?!" I exclaimed. Levi simply scoffed drowsily and informed me that it was bandages, then politely asked me what the Hell it looked like. "What happened? Wha. . . How?"

Levi took me back to the day when Erwin had stolen Armin. After Levi had gone after the thief, he followed the van that the evil blonde man was residing in and a sudden driving shoot-out had sparked. Another blonde man with a crudely grown moustache, as Levi described, had elbowed the back wind shield open and began shooting. So that was where the weapon entries had come from: some guy with a poorly grown moustache who wasn't skilled in shooting, since the bullet holes were scattered over the opposite side of the wind shield. They pulled into Erwin's driveway and the unnecessary shooting continued. Levi rushed from his car to take better cover, but while doing so was shot at from multiple angles and was struck on the left side of his stomach and twice through his right leg. Why I didn't ever notice Levi's wounds before was beyond me, especially the day he came home – the day he was shot.

He told me that he'd sinned and killed many people that day. I asked how many, and in turn he shrugged and said too many for his personal liking. I asked if he killed Erwin and he shook his head. For that, I was disappointed. Erwin was a horrible man and deserved the death penalty: first, he had gotten Levi involved with the whole 'slavery' business, then he held Mikasa captive, then he stole Armin. I hated that man with a fiery passion and I was convinced from the bottom of my heart that I would never like him.

I tended to Levi's wounds which were not all that bad since they had some time to heal. Disinfectant and a clean cloth and some new bandages seemed to do the trick. After some time, I lead Levi back to the bed and told him to just relax for however long he needed – that Mikasa and Armin and I would take good care of him.

"Che, I don't need your damn charity; I was fine before and I'll be fine now." He complained and protested, but I simply smiled and shook my head and got back into bed beside him. His body gravitated to mine and I embraced him as a lover would to another. I gently kissed the back of his head and rubbed the side of my thumb against his bare hip.

"Let me take care of you, please. It's the least I could do for what you taught me and allowed me to learn. . ." My voice droned on softly, eventually lulling Levi into a comfortable rest. "Though the circumstances for our fated meeting were unexpected, a love connecting our lonely souls flourished. First an unknowing acquaintanceship, then a warm friendship, then romance – a deep romance which sparked something foreign inside the both of us. Many people on this planet are fortunate to share the extraordinary bond the two of us had begun to become familiar with, yet many others are continuing their soul-seeking search for their one true love." I paused and smiled at the soft, monotonous breathing coming from Levi. "As I stroke your beautiful dark hair, as I am fortunate enough to caress your smooth, scarred skin, as my breath flows over the back of your neck as I whisper sweet nothings to you in your sleep, my presence will be beside yours for eternity."

Neapolitan dimmed into a soft, warm shade of pink: the colour of dear love, the colour of peace. My eyes closed slowly and I nodded off into a harmonious sleep where I remained for hours, knowing that my lover would be in my arms when I woke up and would be there when I went to sleep.


End file.
